CHAPTER XII

“Say, fellows,” said Bert, as he lay stretched out lazily beneath the limbs of a spreading beech, “isn’t this the finest day ever?”

“You bet it is,” said Tom, “the mould was broken when this day was made.”

It was, indeed, one of the perfect days that come sometimes to break the heat of sweltering midsummer. A brisk wind stirred the branches through which the sunlight, flecking lazily the ground beneath, played over the group of boys, who lay in all sorts of abandoned attitudes on a bit of rising ground a little removed from the camp. They had had a splendid morning’s sport. The coolness of the day and the fine condition of the roads and meadows had suggested to them the game of Hare and Hounds. Up hill and down dale they had raced with occasional intervals of rest. When the hares had successfully shaken off their pursuers, still the bewildered hounds had nosed about, so to speak, seeking to pick up the lost trail. Bert and Tom had been the hares and their escape from capture hadadded to the delight occasioned by the day and the game itself. It was only after the rice that they had carried in their pouches to make a trail had been almost exhausted, that they thought of doubling on their tracks and making for camp.

The hounds had trailed in a little later on, looking a bit discomfited but not disheartened. As Pete Hart, one of the hounds, said “though slightly disfigured they were still in the ring.” And, oh, how that dinner tasted and how impossible it was almost for the famished boys to wait while the fish snatched from the brook that morning were frizzling in the pan and came in tantalizing whiffs to the nostrils of the boys. Something more substantial than whiffs, however, did quickly follow, and now like gorged anacondas full to the brim, they lay stretched out upon the grass and talked over the events of the morning.

“I tell you what, boys,” said Frank, “it sure was the luckiest day in my life when I struck this camp.”

“Well,” said Tom, “I reckon we all say amen to that. Think of being out in these woods on such a day as this with a lot of jolly good fellows and not a thing to do but be happy. When I think of the people in town roasting under the summer heat while we are out here under the trees, you bet I feel sorry for them.”

“Yes,” said Jim, who, as usual, had eaten more even than the others and hadn’t before had energy enough to speak, “the town is all right in the fall and spring, but when the summer comes, me for the long hike and the camp in the woods.”

“It sure does us a lot of good,” said Bert. “I know that when I go back to the city after a summer like this I feel so strong that I could lift a ton.”

“God made the country but man made the town,” chimed in Dick who was great on quotations. “I think it does everybody good to get away somewhere where they can come in contact with the woods and the brooks and the squirrels and the birds. Who was it we used to read about—that fellow in the old Grecian stories—I think his name was Antaeus, who got into a fight with one of the old heroes and every time he was knocked down, refreshed by contact with mother earth, got up ten times stronger than before. I guess that is the way we feel after a summer spent in the woods.”

While they were speaking, Mr. Hollis had joined the group. The boys quickly moved aside to make room for him. Although he was so much older than they, his genial spirit and unfailing friendliness kept him in touch with every one of the boys. At heart he was still a boy andalways would be one. He was a stickler for discipline, but not in the slightest degree a martinet. With him it was always the “iron hand in the velvet glove,” and he was so just, so considerate, he understood boy nature so thoroughly and in the case of each was able so accurately to put himself in his place, that the boys regarded him as a father or rather an older brother, instead of a commander.

“I heard what you said, Tom,” he said, smiling, “about not having a thing to do but be happy. Are you quite sure you have nothing to do but that?”

Tom stared a moment, “why yes,” he said slowly, “to make somebody else happy.”

“That’s the thing,” said Mr. Hollis. “You hit the nail right on the head that time, Tom. There is no higher aim in life than to make some one else happy.”

A murmur of assent arose from the boys.

“Now,” said Mr. Hollis, “we ought to do some one a good turn every day. It doesn’t matter especially what that good turn is. It may be a thing so slight as almost to escape notice. It is just in some way or other to add to the sweetness of human life. It may be to give somebody a lift in the automobile—it may be a word of appreciation to kindle a smile on some tired face; it may be guiding a blind man acrossthe street, or giving your seat to a woman in the street car, or even so slight a thing as to kick a banana peel off the sidewalk. The essence of the whole thing is self-forgetfulness. To lend a hand, to give a lift, to make life brighter and easier for someone even in the smallest degree.

“But what I have in mind just now is a sort of wholesale lift. When I was in town the other day I passed the orphan asylum. You know the one I mean. That building just off the Court House Square with a stone wall around it and a pretty lawn in front.”

The boys remembered perfectly. Every one of them at some time or other had passed the place and seen the childish faces at the windows.

“Now,” said Mr. Hollis, “my idea is this. There are from forty to fifty children in that building. It serves as the asylum for all the towns in the county. I happen to know it is carried on in a splendid way. The officials at the head are kind and humane and the matrons in charge take the best possible care of the little ones, but after all they need variety. They want individual attention. In a home of that kind even with the best intentions there has to be a certain monotony and uniformity. They have to rise at a certain hour, sit down at the table at the same moment, go to the school room at agiven time, and even play under the direction of somebody else. Now, what a glorious thing it would be if for one day those children could come out into the woods and roll in the grass and chase the squirrels and kick up their heels like young colts let loose in the pasture. What do you say boys, to giving up one whole day of this vacation and make those little ones think they have had a glimpse of heaven?”

What they said was plenty. As Shorty said, “it hit them where they lived.”

There was a chorus of excited exclamations, “Will we?” “You bet!” “Just try us and see.” “When’s it going to be?” “Why can’t we have it to-morrow?” “How many kids are there in the asylum?” “What’s the best way to get them here?” At last Mr. Hollis, smiling, had to raise his hand, in order to be heard.

“Well,” said he, “I haven’t fixed upon the date. As a matter of fact, I haven’t spoken to the officers of the institution at all and am not absolutely sure that they will see their way clear to make the arrangement. Of course, they have a great responsibility upon them in caring for so many little ones and they would have to look at the question from every side. Still I don’t think there will be much trouble in arranging it. They are just as eager to see the children have a goodtime as we are, and I think the idea will strike them as a capital one. One or two of the people in charge will, of course, have to come with them. Ordinarily they might feel a little timid about letting the children spend a whole day in the woods in company with a lot of high-spirited boys who might be reckless, and, even with the best intentions, lead them into danger. Still, you boys have established such a good reputation in this neighborhood,” and here Mr. Hollis looked about on the eager faces with an expression of pride, “that I don’t think there will be any real trouble in arranging the affair.”

“It is a capital idea,” said Dick, warmly. “How did you come to think about it?”

“Well,” said Mr. Hollis, “it wasn’t original with me. It’s a custom in the city to set aside a day each year as ‘Orphans’ Day.’ There are thousands of well-to-do people, owners of automobiles, who have the tenderest sympathy with these little ones deprived, by nature, of their natural guardians, and on that one day of the year they give up all thought of selfish enjoyment and try to give the children the time of their lives. It’s a splendid sight and warms the heart to see the long line of automobiles coming down the avenues decked with flags and overflowing with the little tots. Off they go to the beach where all sorts of amusements have been preparedfor them. They dig in the sand. They paddle about with bare feet at the edge of the breakers. They take in every innocent amusement from one end of the island to another. They haven’t any money to spend, but they couldn’t spend it if they had. Everything is free. The spirit of kindness and good feeling is shared by all the owners of the different resorts, and the doors are flung wide open the minute the children come in sight. They see the moving pictures. They ride in the merry-go-round. They hold their breath as they speed up and down the scenic railways. They watch, with awed admiration, the wandering artist who moulds tigers and lions in the sand. The life guards take them in their boats and row around the different piers. They go to the great animal shows and see the big brutes put through their wonderful tricks. They sit in the weighing machines. They throw base-balls at the clay figures and the larger boys are even permitted—supreme pleasure for a boy—to fire at the target in the shooting galleries. They watch the great ocean steamers as they go past at a distance, and the smaller vessels, like white-winged birds, that hug the shore. And eat! How they do eat! They are like a flock of ravenous locusts and the food disappears as if by magic. It’s a day of days for the poor little youngsters, to be talked over and dreamedover for months to come, and when at the end of the day they pile into the autos, tired, full, happy as larks, for the swift return journey to the only place they know as home, it is a question who are the happier, the little ones to whom this means so much or the owners of the machines who, for that one day at least have spent themselves gladly for the happiness of others.”

The boys listened with rapt attention, and when Mr. Hollis had finished they were chock full of enthusiasm.

“Well,” said Tom, “we haven’t any beach here, but I am willing to bet that by the time we get through with those kids they will have had just as good a time as any youngster in the big city ever had.”

The boys all chimed assent to this, and Shorty, who was always impulsive and never could bear to wait for anything that he greatly desired, suggested, “Why not fix it up right away?”

“Well,” said Mr. Hollis, “I don’t see any objection to that. If Bert has the automobile in shape we will go over at once.”

So many of the boys wanted to go with him that, to avoid any selection, Mr. Hollis suggested that they draw lots. Of course it went without saying that Bert would go to drive the machine, but in addition fate decreed that Tom,Frank, Jim, and Shorty should pile in with them. Off they went along the smooth country roads, their hearts leaping not only with the delight of the glorious day and the thrilling swiftness with which the great machine sped over the turnpike, but also from the feeling that they were going to carry gladness and sunshine into a lot of wistful little hearts to whom father and mother were only names.

In what seemed only a few minutes from the time they left the camp, they reached the asylum. Bert went in with Mr. Hollis while the rest of the boys stayed outside in the machine of which they never tired, and where they much preferred to stay rather than wander about the streets of the town. The interview with the officers of the asylum was most cordial. They knew Mr. Hollis as a courteous gentleman and a capable and careful ruler of his little kingdom. The matron in charge was called in at the conference and she also assented heartily and thankfully.

It was arranged that on the second day thereafter, provided, of course, the weather was suitable, the outing should take place. Then arose the question of transportation. How were they to get there? The automobile would only carry a few of the little ones even though they were packed in like sardines. The superintendent suggested that no doubt they would be able tofind plenty of the townspeople who would be glad to furnish teams to carry the rest.

But just before this arrangement was concluded a thought occurred to Bert. He knew how much the auto appealed to a youngster. They were used to seeing horses and wagons and at times would be taken for a ride in them, but automobiles were scarce in that locality and seemed almost like a fairy vehicle to the little ones, as with faces pressed against the panes they would see an occasional touring car glide swiftly along the road in front. “Where were the horses?” “What made them go?” “Why do they go so fast?” It seemed to Bert that half the delight of the little ones would be in the automobile ride and as he pictured the little wave of envy and discontent that would inevitably come over the youngsters who were forced to take the more prosaic and common place wagons, he said:

“What’s the matter with taking them all over in the machine? Of course we would have to make a good many trips, but what of that? It only takes a few minutes to get from here to the camp and turn our load loose in the woods and then come back for another. The whole thing could be managed in a couple of hours. Bob and I could take turns in driving the machine. I am sure Bob would be glad to, and I know I would,and as for the kids, there is no question of the way they would feel about it.”

“All right,” said Mr. Hollis, while the superintendent and matron greeted gratefully this further example of Bert’s thoughtfulness and kindness of heart.

When the machine returned to camp and the boys who had been left behind learned of the arrangement, everything was bustle and stir at once. Although the camp was always kept in first-class order, this being one of their cardinal principles, yet there were a good many little things that needed doing in order that the youngsters should have the glorious time that the boys had mapped out for them. Some of them took a long rope and fixed up a great swing between two oaks at a little distance from the camp. Others arranged an archery butt and prepared bows and arrows for the larger boys to use. A number of fishing lines with sinkers and hooks were prepared so that the children might have the rare delight of trying to catch their own dinner. Then, too, it was necessary to go to town on several different occasions to secure supplies. Their own store had to be replenished, and besides, they wanted to get a lot of extra dainties that would appeal especially to the appetites of their little guests.

There had been a heavy rain a day or two before and the prospects were that nothing in theway of bad weather would mar the outing. This had been a question of a little anxiety because their stay in camp was rapidly nearing a close. Many of the boys had only a limited time to stay and had to return to their employment in the city. And even those who could extend the period had no desire to do so after their fellows had gone.

In all this rush of preparation the automobile race was not neglected. Every boy in the camp felt as though his own personal reputation was involved in winning. Rumors had filtered in from different quarters that Ralph Quinby, the driver of the “Gray Ghost,” was simply burning up the roads in exercise. It was even said that for a short distance he had attained the speed of a mile a minute.

While there was no bitterness in the rivalry between the two camps, yet their desire to win was extremely keen.

“You have simply got to get there, old fellow,” said Dick as he and Bert were tinkering at the machine on the morning before that set for the outing. “It would never do to have those fellows say that the ‘Red Scout’ had to take the dust of the ‘Gray Ghost.’”

“Well,” said Bert, who, as the driver of the car, naturally felt a greater weight of responsibility than anybody else, “there are just threethings we need in order to come in first. Above everything else, we’ve got to have the car in splendid condition. It must be stripped of every single thing that might furnish wind resistance and make its work that much harder. Every bolt and nut must be examined and tightened. The lever, the clutch, the gear, has to be thoroughly examined. Many a race is won in advance in this way, even before the machine leaves the post. In the next place, we’ve got to have good judgment. By this I mean judgment of pace. It isn’t only what the speedometer says, but there is a little something that tells the man who has his hand on the wheel just when and just how hard he should hit it up. Sometimes it is wise to trail the other fellow. At other times it may be well to set the pace, but the ability to do either one or the other is the thing that, other things being equal, is bound to tell in the long run. Then, greatest of all, perhaps, is nerve. I don’t know whether you have ever ridden, Dick, in a machine that goes a mile a minute, but if you have, especially on a circular track, you’ll know something of what I mean. A fellow’s nerves must be like iron. The least hesitation, the least doubt, the least shakiness even for the merest fraction of a second, may be fatal. This is true even if one were riding without anything especially at stake, but when we know that all thefellows will be yelling like Indians, begging us to win, and know the bitter disappointment that will come to them if the other fellow shows us the way over the line, I tell you it is a sure enough test of a fellow’s nerve.”

“Well,” said Dick, “as to that last point I haven’t any doubt about you having plenty of nerve, Bert. If that were the only thing in question I would call the race won just now, but how about the machines themselves? Don’t they enter into the calculation?”

“Of course,” said Bert, “that counts for an awful lot. You can’t make a cart horse beat a thoroughbred, no matter how well he is ridden. There’s got to be the speed there or everything else counts for nothing. But take two machines of about equal power, and from all I hear the ‘Red Scout’ hasn’t much, if anything, on the ‘Gray Ghost’ in this particular, it puts the matter right up to the drivers of the cars. Under those conditions, nine times out of ten, it’s the best man and not the best machine that wins.”

While Tom and Bert discussed the thing in this way soberly, the rest of the troop hadn’t a doubt in the world that their hero would win. They idolized Bert. They had seen him under a variety of circumstances and never once had he shown the white feather. Never once had he failed to measure up to an emergency. Neveronce had he failed to use every ounce of energy and power that he possessed. If heshould lose—and this thought was instantly dismissed as traitorous—they knew that, although beaten, he would not be disgraced, and so, with a vast amount of excitement but with scarcely the slightest feeling of trepidation, they awaited the momentous day when the “Gray Ghost” and the “Red Scout” should battle for supremacy.

“Orphans’ Day” dawned clear and beautiful. There was just enough breeze to temper the heat of the sun. The skies were cloudless. Many a tousled little head up at the asylum had tossed restlessly on its pillow through that night and almost all of the expectant youngsters needed no rising bell to call them from their dreams. Even breakfast was dispatched more quickly than usual, and the feverish impatience of the little tots made it almost impossible to wait for the coming of that glorious automobile.

As it was necessary to save all possible space in the auto for the children themselves, Bert drove the car over alone. When he came in sight he was hailed with a yell of delight by a little group of seven or eight gathered on the lawn, who had been told off, to the envy of their less fortunate companions, for the first ride. The matron in charge made a pretense of keeping order, but she had been a child herself and theattempt was only half-hearted. In they piled, one after the other, tumbling over the sides, or tossed in by the strong arms of Bert, and untangled themselves somehow, some on the seats, some on the bottom of the car between the last and the driver’s seat. Brown heads, black heads, blond heads, yes, even one little red head—that of Teddy Mulligan—made what Shorty said when he saw it was “a sure enough color scheme.”

As soon as they were safely ensconced, Bert blew his horn, swung the car around, and then made off for the camp. Oh, the delight of that swift trip on that glorious morning. Oh, the chatter that rose from those eager lips. Oh, the joy that bubbled in those little, motherless hearts. It wasn’t earth—it was heaven. On sped the machine, noiselessly, softly, swiftly as a bird. If it had not been for the other groups who were eagerly waiting their turn Bert would surely have turned off into a side road and given the kids a good many extra miles; but the others had to be considered, too, and time was passing, so into the camp they glided, all alive with eagerness, delight and anticipation. The ready hands of the other boys lifted the little ones from the machine, which instantly turned about for its second trip. Again and again this was repeated, until the last little group on the lawn of the asylumhad melted away, and the woods resounded with their childish prattle.

The boys had surely spread themselves to give “the kids” a day that they’d never forget. Frank took some of the larger boys to the little glade where the archery practice was on, put the bows and arrows into their hands that had been prepared and showed them how to shoot. The girls were taken to a swing that the boys had rigged up and swung to and fro to their hearts’ content. Tom showed them how to make jack-o’-lanterns and told them about the time when Bert had put one up in a great cave and frightened him so badly when he caught a first glimpse of it. A little group under the guidance of Dick went down to the brook and watched the sunfish dart to and fro under the gleaming surface and the great perch and catfish lying lazily under the reeds that fringed the bank. Shorty, who was an expert fisherman, threw his line while the boys looked on with bated breath, and in a few minutes pulled up a plump catfish.

“Why do they call them that?” said little Tony Darimo.

“Well,” said Shorty, “maybe it’s because of the whiskers they have; perhaps because the face looks something like a cat, or else because of the noise they make when you take them off the hook.”

Little Billy Jackson seemed unconvinced.

“It doesn’t seem to me like a cat,” he said.

Just then Shorty, who had turned his head to put the fish in the basket, uttered a loud “meow.” Billy jumped.

“I guess you are right after all,” he said. “It surely does sound like a pussy cat.”

In the shallow part of the brook some of the little ones under the guidance of the matron were permitted to take off their shoes and stockings and paddle about. The water was less than a foot deep. One of the children slipped and fell. In a moment Don, who had been racing along the bank, jumped in and grabbed him by the collar of his blouse. The child was on his feet in a minute and had never been in the slightest danger at all, but Don felt just as proud of his exploit as though he had saved him from a raging torrent. The boys laughed and called him a “fake hero,” and yet every one of them knew in his heart that, however great might have been the danger, Don would have jumped just the same. Don outdid himself that day. He made the children scream with delight. Under the guidance of Bert he played soldier, shouldered the stick and marched, rolled over and played dead, and did it all with such a keen sense of enjoyment in his tricks that the children stoodabout and watched him, with endless wonder and delight.

But the one whom the children remembered above all the others was Bert. He was everywhere. He told them stories. He carried them on his shoulders. He imitated the calls of the different birds. He summoned the squirrels and the timid little creatures, who long since had lost all fear of him, came readily forward, ate out of his hand and perched upon his finger tips. The children looked on with wide-eyed amazement, delight and admiration.

Then came dinner, and such a dinner! The kids had never seen anything like it before. Fish caught fresh from the brook, the golden corn bread made by the boys themselves, the maple syrup, the cakes, the pies, the countless goodies that melted away before those famished youngsters would have filled a dyspeptic’s heart with envy.

But all things come to an end, and in the late afternoon, amid the shouted good-byes and waving of hands from all the boys in the camp, the “Red Scout” took up its burden—and it had never borne a happier one—and carried the kids away, their little hearts full of unspeakable content, at the end of the best day’s outing they had ever known.

The boys were tired that night. Even Tom,who prided himself on never owning up to weariness, admitted fairly and squarely that he was “clean tuckered out.” But it was a delightful weariness. They had forgotten themselves. They had worked and planned for others. They had not looked for their own happiness, and just because they had not, they found it. They had learned the one supreme lesson of life, “that to give is better than to receive,” “that he who seeks pleasure as an end in itself never finds it,” and that he who bestows happiness upon another has his own heart flooded with peace.

The next night, while Dave, who had promised to tell them a tiger yarn, was pulling his “thinking cap” on tight, and trying to select his most fetching story, the boys gathered closer about him, and with hearts beating a little faster at the very mention of the word “tiger,” prepared to listen.

At last Dave looked up, and in order to make his story a trifle more thrilling, gave a little talk on the bloodthirstiness of his majesty, the tiger. When he concluded by the tense look on his hearers’ faces that the right moment had arrived, he plunged into

The Story of the Tiger

“One calm evening in the summertime, somewhat later than usual, a gentleman stepped from the train at a railroad station in a suburban town and walked up the street toward his home. Deep in thoughts of business, he did not notice at first that a most unusual silence pervaded the town. In a short time the deadly stillness roused him,and he noticed, wonderingly, that he was the only person to be seen on the streets. Not a man, woman, or child could he see, a most unusual thing, as at that time, in the early evening, the town was always a very lively place indeed. He noticed, too, with amazement, that the doors and windows of the houses were all closed. Not a face appeared at any of them. All the windows that had blinds or shutters attached had them drawn tightly, and fastened securely. Not a sign of life anywhere. What had happened? Had everybody gone crazy?

“Amazed and frightened, he hurried on, up one street and down another, until his own house came into view. That, too, was closed and shuttered. The welcoming face that had never failed to greet him was not at door or window. Now, thoroughly alarmed, he ran up the steps of the porch and wildly rang the bell. The door was opened cautiously, just a little crack, and to his great relief the face of his wife appeared at the tiny opening.

“At the sight of him the door opened wider. He was clutched by the sleeve and hurried into the house with scant ceremony. Before he could get his breath after this amazing treatment the door was closed and locked and double-locked on the instant, and the white face of his wife confronted the dazed man.

“His dinner was ready, but without waiting for him to be seated at the table his wife commenced to tell him the cause of the unusual state of affairs. ‘Did he remember that the wild animal show was to have arrived in the town that day?’ ‘No,’ he had not remembered, ‘but go on.’

“Well, it did come, and while the show was in progress one of the animals, a tiger, had escaped from the tent and raced up Main Street, while everyone on the street hurried to the nearest refuge. At the end of Main Street he dashed into the woods, and though the crowd of pursuing men and boys did their best to recapture him, he was still at large. The manager of the show told the people, while they ran madly in pursuit, that the tiger was a new one, scarcely at all trained, and by far the fiercest and most savage of all the animals in the show. He warned everyone to stay closely within doors that night, and assured them that as soon as daylight appeared every possible effort would be made to capture and cage him. That is why everybody is barricaded within doors.

“Of course, being a man, he laughed at his wife’s fears, said there was no danger, and that it was extremely foolish for everyone to be so scared, and that, as for him, he would not lose a wink of sleep worrying about it. His wife noticed, however, that although he talked sobravely, he kept closely within doors all the evening, and that when they were ready to go upstairs for the night he looked with unusual care at the fastenings of all the doors and windows, both upstairs and down. Once, as he fastened the bolt of a window, he had stopped and grown a little white at a slight scratching noise just outside the window.”

Here a decided shiver ran around the camp, furtive looks were cast over hiked shoulders, and Sam, who for some minutes had been watching a moving shadow just outside the line of camp firelight, decided that the shadow was decidedly tigerlike, and wanted to know if they did not think the fire needed some more logs. “All right, old man,” said Bob, and the logs went on. They blazed up brightly, and gave every man Jack, even the bravest of them, a more comfortable feeling of security, and Dave went on with the story:

“In the middle of that night the man found himself suddenly awake, with an intense feeling that someone or something was in the room. Raising himself upon one elbow, he gazed searchingly about the dim room, and was just about to give himself a lecture for imagining things, when, in the farthest and darkest corner, he saw what appeared to be two great balls of green fire glaring straight at him. At once the thought ofthe escaped tiger leaped into his mind, and he knew that the fierce and savage beast was within his room. For a moment his heart fairly stopped beating, but, gaining control of himself with an effort, he tried to think what he should do. He reached over and laid his hand softly over his wife’s lips and whispered in her ear. Then together they watched the two glowing points of fire, wondering with sick hearts how soon the tiger would be upon them.

“They had not long to wait, for now the tiger began crawling toward them, inch by inch, inch by inch——”

At this point in the story the boys, utterly forgetful of the world and everything in it, had crowded close about the story teller, and with flesh creeping and hair rising on their heads were listening, open-mouthed, to the story. Dave had paused to take breath, when every heart stood still as a fierce scratching on the bark of a nearby tree and a deep, savage growling were heard.

All sprang to their feet. Dick Trent was the only one who remained cool. Having seen Bert Wilson (who never lost an opportunity for a little fun and mischief) steal quietly away under cover of the darkness, he more than suspected that something was going to happen, and so was prepared.

Suddenly a burst of ringing laughter made itselfheard, and there on the grass lay Bert, rolling over and over, holding his sides and saying between gasps, “Oh, my! Oh, my! you did look so funny! Hold me, somebody, or Iwillgo to pieces. Oh, my! Oh, my!”

At first the boys were inclined to be angry, but they were good fellows and always ready to laugh at a joke, even when it was on themselves, and so with many a laughing threat to “get even with Bert, and that mighty soon,” they came, a little sheepishly, back to the fire and with one accord begged Dave to go on with the story.

“Well,” resumed Dave, “we left the tiger creeping inch by inch, inch by inch, toward his two victims, and feeling very sure of his capture; but the man was not the one to give up his life or that of his wife without a brave effort to save them. He whispered hastily to his wife, ‘Be prepared’”—here a voice interrupted to exclaim, “They ought to have been campers”—“‘to jump out and roll way back under the bed the instant I say Now!’

“By this time the tiger had come to within a few feet of them, and they could see him in the dim light, every muscle quivering, crouched for a spring. The man had slipped his feet over the side of the bed to the floor, and his hands clutched the bedclothes from underneath.

“As the beast sprang the man shouted,‘Now!’ and at the same time flung the bedclothes over the head and body of the tiger. The two terrified people used the few minutes the angry, snarling beast took to get out from the tangle of bedclothes to roll as far under the bed as they could. The bed was a very low one, and the man knew that the tiger, who was very large, could not creep under without raising the bed with his shoulders. So the two resolved that when he tried to get under, as they knew he would, they would grip the steel springs above them and hold on like grim death, and try to hold the bed down.

“All too soon they found themselves holding on to those springs with all the combined strength of their muscles. The tiger tried again and again to lift the bed, but could not get enough of his shoulders under to get a purchase, and finding himself baffled, crept away to his far corner to consider what to do.

“The man knew that they could not keep the tiger at bay in this way very long, for their strength was nearly gone. Groping about desperately, his hand touched his son’s tool box, pushed carelessly under the bed. How thankful he was that their boy was visiting relatives at a distance. He, at least, was safe. He grasped the box as a drowning man grasps a straw, and lifting alid searched for and found a screw driver, and, oh, joy! a few large screws.

“Working desperately, and more rapidly than ever in his life before, he drove a couple of the screws through the two top legs of the bed, securing them to the floor. Another two minutes and he had one of the bottom legs in the same condition. Before he could touch the fourth leg the tiger, angered by the noise of the screw driving, bounded forward and again tried to lift the bed. Finding he could not get at them, the tiger suddenly sprang upon the bed and began tearing at the mattress. Very soon there was nothing between him and the now almost despairing couple but the woven wire springs. These springs were of extra strong, fine quality, but even these could not hold out long against the onslaught of those terrible, powerful claws.

“Almost mechanically the man again thrust his hand into the box, and drew out a small saw. The idea came to him to cut a hole through the floor into the ceiling of the room below, slip through, and rush for help. He spoke to his wife, and found she had fainted. He worked desperately, faster and faster, while all the time the tiger tore more and more fiercely at the tough springs. His hot, terrible breath swept across their faces, so close to that snarling oneabove them, while the saliva dropped from his savage jaws.

“Almost fainting with disgust and terror, the man worked on still more desperately, for dear life now. At last one side was finished, then another, now the third, and a little hope came back to the man’s heart. If he could only finish that other side he would have at least a slight chance of escape. But now the tough woven wire links began to give way under the tearing of the tiger’s savage claws. In one place a small hole is broken in the wire. In mad haste the man tears the saw through the wood. It seems as if it would never give way. Once the saw slips and bends. What if it should break! One more desperate, despairing effort. Only two more inches now, only one, only a half inch. At last it is over, and the saw drops from his nerveless hand. He makes a last effort to arouse his wife, but without avail. He cannot bear to leave her, for he fears that before he can get help and return the tiger will be upon her. What can he do? It is his only chance to save her. Hemusttake it.

“The tiger, as if he knew a crisis had come, ceased his tearing and lay above them, watching with angry fire flashing from his eyes, and keeping up a low, savage snarling.

“With a muttered prayer for protection for his poor wife and help for himself, the man loweredhimself through the opening until he found himself suspended from the ceiling of the lower room. In desperate haste to go for help, he is about to drop to the floor, but pauses to hear if there is any sound or movement in the room above. Not a sound. There is comfort in that, for his poor wife must be safe as yet, but what is the tiger doing? Why is everything so deadly quiet? Incensed at the escape of one of his victims, one would suppose him to be all the more eager to secure the other; but there is no sound. What can he be doing?

“At this moment an awful thought comes to him. What if the cunning tiger had crept silently down the stairs into the room below? He remembers that the door into that room was open when they passed it on their way upstairs. How safe they had felt then! How little had they dreamed that this awful thing would come upon them! Could it be only a few hours since they had gone upstairs, chatting cheerfully together? It seemed days and days ago. Perhaps the tiger was at that moment crouched below him there in the darkness, ready to spring upon him the moment, yes, even before, his feet touched the ground.

“The awful thought made him pause, and he hung there with fiercely throbbing heart, undecided what to do. If he could hear one soundof the tiger moving in the room above him he could drop, quickly close the door, and rush away for help. Still no sound from his wife’s room. What should he do? Perhaps it would be better to try to hold on until morning, when he could at least have the blessed light to aid him. It could not be long now before daybreak. Surely out of doors there must be daylight now. Soon it would come into the room and enable him to look about him. Yes, that would be the best and only thing to do.

“But no; he cannot! His strength is failing. Already his numbed fingers are slipping—slipping—another moment and the tiger will be upon him and all will be over. He can hold on no longer. He is falling—falling——

“‘John! Oh, John!’ comes a cheerful voice from below. ‘Aren’t you coming down? It is almost train time, and breakfast is ready.’

“John sits up in bed, looking with dazed eyes all around the bright room, flooded with morning sunshine, and it is minutes before he realizes that it isall a dream!”

If anyone could have taken a photograph of the boys’ faces just before the conclusion of the story and another just after it, the two pictures would have been a comic study; but they could not have given the transition from faces filled with rapt, motionless, breathless interest to theastonished, somewhat disgusted look as the totally unexpected ending of the story filtered in upon them.

Mr. Hollis, who had listened to the last part of the story with as much interest as the boys, thanked Dave for the pleasure he had given them, but could not keep back a smile as Shorty voiced the general sentiment, “You ought to be ashamed, Dave Ferris, for handing us such a lemon.”

Pop! Pop! Bang! The “Red Scout’s” motor gave a few preliminary explosions, and then started off with a sound like a whole battery of field guns going off at once. A cloud of black smoke issued from the exhaust, and in a few seconds had enveloped the car so that it could hardly be seen. Some of the boys came running up with consternation written in their faces, evidently thinking that the automobile was about to explode, or run away, or do some equally disastrous thing. They were reassured by Bert’s broad grin, however, and Bob Ward gave a relieved laugh.

“Gee!” he exclaimed, “what’s the matter with the old machine, anyway, Bert? You had us scared stiff there for a few minutes. I thought that after this when we wanted to get anywhere we’d have to walk, sure. It looked as though the old ‘Scout’ were on fire.”

“It sure did,” confirmed Frank. “Whatwasthe matter, Bert?”

“Oh, nothing to speak of,” replied Bert airily.“I had just washed the engine out with a little kerosene oil, and, when I started it, why, of course that burned, and gave out the smoke you saw. I don’t wonder that you thought something was up, though,” he continued, laughing. “It certainly did look like the ‘last days of Pompeii’ for a few seconds, didn’t it?”

“That’s what it did,” broke in Shorty, “and seeing all that smoke reminded me of a riddle I heard a little while ago.”

“Go on, Shorty, tell us the riddle and get it out of your system,” laughed Bert. “If you don’t it might grow inward and kill you. Some brands of humor are apt to work that way, you know.”

“Well, the riddle is this,” said Shorty. “Why is it that an automobile smokes?”

Many were the answers to this, but at each one Shorty shook his head. Finally he said, “Well, do you give it up?”

“I guess we’ll have to, fellows,” grinned Bert. “Go on and tell us, Shorty; whyisit that an automobile smokes?”

“Because it can’t chew,” crowed Shorty triumphantly, and dodged just in time to avoid a piece of greasy waste that Bert threw with unerring aim at his head. Amid cries of “Lynch him!” and “This way out!” and “Don’t let him escape alive, fellows,” Shorty took nimblyto his heels and skipped behind a tree. After the excitement had subsided Bert returned to his grooming of the “Red Scout,” and soon had matters fixed to his entire satisfaction.

It was a hot, sticky afternoon, and the boys had nothing particular to do outside of the routine duties of the camp. They had been lying around on the grass, lazily talking and listening to the drowsy hum of an occasional locust, when one had said:

“Gee, I wish to goodness there was a little wind stirring. I feel as though in about five minutes I would become a mere grease spot on the landscape.”

“Well,” Bert had replied, “if you feel that way about it, why not manufacture a little wind of our own?”

“Manufacture it,” had come a chorus of surprised protest, “how in time can you manufacture wind?”

“Oh, it’s very simple when you know how,” Bert replied, in an offhand manner. “What’s to prevent us from piling into the auto and taking a spin? When we get out on the road I think I can promise you all the breeze you want. What do you say, fellows? Want to try it?”

The answer was an uproarious shout of approval, and accordingly Bert had been getting the machine in shape.

In a short time they were ready to start, and as they were getting in they discerned Shorty’s stocky form emerging from the trees. He signaled frantically for them to wait, and soon came up panting.

“Say, you weren’t going without me, were you?” he asked reproachfully.

“Well,” laughed Bert, “you deserve almost anything after springing a thing like that on us, but I guess we can forgive you, if we try real hard. Shall we take him along, fellows?”

“I don’t see what Shorty needs to come for, anyway,” said Ben, slyly. “It seems to me that a fellow that can run as fast as Shorty did a little while ago can make all the wind he needs himself. He doesn’t have to get in an automobile to get swift motion.”

“That’s so,” agreed Bert, with a serious face, “still, probably Philip has other views, and so we might as well give him the benefit of the doubt. Jump in, old scout.”

This was easier said than done, however, as the big red auto was already literally overflowing with perspiring boys, but they managed to squeeze in, and started off, singing three or four different songs all at the same time, and each one in a different key.

Nobody seemed to be bothered much by this, however, and they soon reached the hard, level,macadam high road. Bert “opened her up” a few notches, as he expressed it, and they were soon bowling along at an exhilarating pace. The breeze that Bert had promised them soon made itself felt, and you may be sure it felt very grateful to the overheated boys.

“This beats lying around on the grass and whistling for a wind, doesn’t it?” asked Frank, and, needless to say, all the rest of the boys were emphatically of his opinion.

They had been going along at a brisk pace for several miles when they heard the purr of another motor car in back of them, and glancing back saw a handsome-looking blue auto creeping up to them. A flashily dressed young man, smoking a cigarette, was driving it, and three girls were sitting in the tonneau. The blue machine overtook them steadily, and soon was abreast of them.

“Gee, Bert,” exclaimed Frank, excitedly, but in a low voice, “you’re not going to let them pass us, are you?”

“Oh, let them, if they want to,” replied Bert; “we didn’t come out for a race, and I feel just like loafing along and taking things easy. What’s the use of getting excited about things on a hot day like this? Besides, I don’t think those people are looking for trouble, anyway.”

At this point the blue car passed them, however,and as it did so one of the girls in the tonneau looked back and called, “How does the dust taste, boys? Like it?” The fellow driving it laughed at this sally, and shouted, “Hey, youse, why don’t you get a horse?”

All the boys looked at Bert to see how he would take this. He said never a word, but his grip tightened on the steering wheel, and the “Red Scout” gave a lunge forward that almost jerked some of the boys out of their seats. Faster and faster the powerful car flew, and it was evident that they would soon overtake the blue car. The latter was also a first rate machine, however, and the boys could see one of the girls in the tonneau lean over and speak to the driver. The blue car started to draw slowly away, and Bert opened the throttle a few more notches. The motor took on a deep, vibrating note, and the hum of the gears rose to a higher pitch. Soon they began to overtake the car in front, and now it became evident that the latter was doing its best. The “Red Scout” fairly “ate up” the intervening space, and in a few moments had come up to within a few yards of the laboring blue car. The driver looked back, and seeing that the big red car in back of him would surely pass him in another few seconds, swerved his own car over so that it was squarely in the middle of the narrow country road.There was a shallow ditch on each side of the road, and the only way Bert could pass him was to take a chance of overturning and run two wheels in this ditch. Usually he would not have thought of exposing the boys to such a risk, but now he threw caution to the winds. Amid hoarse and excited cries from the boys he “gave her the limit,” to use his own expression, and the “Red Scout” seemed fairly to leap ahead.

He swerved the big machine into the ditch, and the wheels bumped and pounded over the uneven surface. The big car fairly shot by the blue machine, however, and amid a triumphant shout from the frenzied boys regained the smooth road and hid the defeated challenger in a cloud of dust.

Then Bert slowed it down a little, but kept well in the lead. The blue machine had evidently given up in despair, however, and gradually dropped back until a turn in the road hid it from their view. The boys broke into an excited discussion of the recent “brush,” and all were enthusiastic in their praise of the staunch old “Red Scout.” They also had many flattering things to say in regard to Bert’s driving, until he was forced to protest that he would have to buy a hat about five sizes larger, as he could fairly feel his head swelling.

Finally the excitement subsided somewhat,and the boys had time to look around them and get their bearings. It did not take them long to find that they were in unfamiliar surroundings. They had gone at such a fast pace that they had covered more ground than they would have believed possible. Bert consulted the odometer, or distance recording instrument, and announced that they had covered almost thirty-five miles!

“Say!” he exclaimed, “we’ll have to do some tall hustling to get back to the camp in time for lunch. We’ll keep on a little way, until we get to a place where the road is wide enough to turn around in, and then we’ll beat it back as fast as possible.”

As he finished speaking, they rounded a sudden turn in the road and a gasp arose from every boy in the car. Not fifteen feet ahead of them was a railroad crossing, and giving a lightning-like glance up and down the track Bert saw that there was a train approaching from both directions. It was obvious that the automobile would not be able to get across in time, and at the brisk rate at which they were traveling, it was equally impossible to stop the machine. It seemed inevitable that the auto would be struck by one or both of the ponderous locomotives, and it and its occupants be crushed to atoms.

The boys turned sick with horror, and grippedthe sides of the automobile without being able to say a word. Their eyes gazed without winking at the two rushing locomotives, and they were unable to move.

But Bert saw that they had one, and only one, bare chance of life. He did not try to apply the brakes, which would have been useless and fatal, but as the big auto reached the railroad trackshe wrenched the steering wheel around and headed it directly up the trackin front of the northbound train. As he did this he opened the throttle, and bent over the wheel in a desperate and almost hopeless attempt to beat the flying locomotive until the engineer, who of course was using every means in his power to stop his train, could check its momentum and give them a chance to escape.

The “Red Scout” bumped and swayed wildly over the uneven ballasting and ties, and the boys breathed heartfelt prayers that nothing on the staunch car would break. In spite of all Bert could do, the fast express train gained on them, although sparks were streaming from the wheels where the brakes were clamped against them. The engineer had reversed the locomotive, and the great driving wheels were revolving backward.

The momentum of a fast and heavy express train is not a thing to be checked in a moment,however, and the boys in the rear of the automobile could feel the heat from the locomotive boiler.

But the powerful automobile had gotten “into its stride” by this time, and was fairly flying over the uneven roadbed, and to the boys it felt as though it were only hitting the high places, as Frank afterward expressed it. For a hundred or two hundred feet the train failed to gain an inch, and then the brakes began to tell and it gradually fell to the rear.

Shorty leaned over and thumped Bert on the back and yelled: “Slow up, Bert, slow up! We’re out of danger now, I guess.”

Bert glanced back, and saw that Shorty was right. They were drawing rapidly away from the locomotive, so he reduced speed, and the automobile gradually attained a safer pace, and at the first opportunity Bert swung it up off the tracks and onto a country road. This done, he stopped the machine, and leaning on the steering wheel, buried his face in his hands. He said not a word, and the boys could see that he was trembling like a leaf. In a few moments he recovered himself, however, and the boys began to overwhelm him with questions:

“How did you ever think of going up the track instead of trying to get across, Bert?” inquired Frank. “If you had tried to cross thatwould have been the last of us, because we could never have made it.”

“I did it because it was the only thing to be done, I guess,” replied Bert, in a shaky voice. “I’m no end of a fool to go at that speed on a road that I don’t know, anyway. I don’t know what I could have been thinking of to take such chances. Mr. Hollis will never have any confidence in me again, I guess.”

“Nonsense!” retorted Bob, indignantly. “Why, if Mr. Hollis could have seen the presence of mind you showed, I think he would trust you all the more, if that is possible. Not one person in a hundred would have thought of doing what you did.”

“Yes, but that’s not all of it, by any means,” said Bert, in a mournful voice. “I’ll bet that we’ve broken something on the old car, as well as almost getting ourselves converted into sausage meat. Here goes to look things over, anyway.”

A thorough inspection failed to reveal any break in the mechanism or frame, however, and even the tires were intact. Finally Bert straightened up with a relieved expression on his face, and said: “Well, I can’t seem to find anything at present, that’s one comfort. However, I wouldn’t have believed that any car could stand such punishment and hold together. We won’tkick against fate, though, for not smashing our car for us, will we?”

“I guess not,” agreed Shorty, heartily, “I think we ought to thank our lucky stars that any of us are left to talk about it, even. It’s more than we had a right to expect fifteen minutes ago.”

“I guess you’re right, Shorty, at that,” agreed Bert, “but now, we’d better make a quick sneak back to camp. Mr. Hollis will have given us up for lost.”

Accordingly the boys all climbed into the car, and they were soon humming along on their homeward journey. You may be sure that Bert slowed down almost to a walking pace at every turn they came to, however, and once, just for fun, he said, “Say, Shorty, I don’t like the looks of that curve ahead of us. Perhaps you had better get out and go on ahead to make sure that the coast is clear. I intend to be on the safe side this time.”

Shorty immediately entered into the spirit of the joke, and vaulted out over the side of the tonneau while the auto was yet in motion, and disappeared around the curve. As the auto crept around the bend its occupants could see Shorty waving his handkerchief and signaling for them to come on. Bert laughingly complied, and, as they passed Shorty, stopped a moment togive him a chance to climb aboard. Shorty was soon in his place, and Frank laughed.

“Gee, Bert, that’s being careful for fair. If Mr. Hollis could have seen that I think it would have made up for our going too fast and almost getting smashed up. What doyousay, fellows?”

There was a unanimous chorus of assent to this proposition, but Bert did not join in the laughter. He felt in his heart that he had been careless, and he knew that even his subsequent presence of mind in getting them out of a tight scrape did not wholly atone. His mind was filled with these thoughts, when Bob said, “Say, fellows, I don’t see why we have to say anything to Mr. Hollis about our near accident, at all. It will just make him angry at us, and maybe he will not want to let us use the car again. Besides, now that it’s all over, it won’t do him any good to know what a narrow escape we’ve had.”

“No, no, Bob, that would never do in the wide world,” replied Bert, quickly, and in a reproving voice. “The last thing we ought to think of is to deceive Mr. Hollis, and you know it. I’m surprised that you should even have mentioned such a thing.”

“Well, there’s no harm done, is there?” replied Bob, but in a rather shame-faced manner. “We won’t do it if you don’t think we ought to,so there’s no use getting mad about it. I just offered that as a suggestion, that’s all.”

“Well,” replied Bert, “the chief blame for this thing lies on me, anyway, and as soon as we get back to camp I intend to make a clean breast of the whole matter to Mr. Hollis, and he can do as he thinks best.”

“Oh, all right, have it your own way,” growled Bob, sullenly, and they relapsed into silence. By this time it was almost dark, and Bert was forced to drive very slowly, as he had never been over that particular road before. He had a well-developed sense of location, however, and was pretty sure that he was going in the right direction.

As it proved he was not deceived in this, and they shortly struck a road with which they were all familiar. Bert ventured to accelerate their pace somewhat, and it was not long before they came in sight of the cheery camp fire, around which Mr. Hollis and the boys who had not gone on the automobile trip were seated. As they heard the sound of the machine the group around the fire leaped to their feet, and Mr. Hollis walked slowly toward them. When the auto swung into the circle of fire light and came to an abrupt halt, he said:

“What has been detaining you, boys? It seems to me that you are not treating me quiteright by going off in this manner and returning at such an hour as this. Why, you should have been back two hours ago.”

A chorus of excited exclamations rose from the boys, but Mr. Hollis raised his hand for silence. When this had been restored, he said, “One at a time, boys, one at a time. Here, Bert, let’s hear your explanation.”

This Bert proceeded to give in a very straightforward manner, and did not attempt to gloss over any of the details of his recklessness, as he was pleased to call it.

Mr. Hollis listened with a serious face, and when Bert had finished, said, “Well, Bert, you were certainly to blame for taking chances in the manner that you did, but, on the other hand, you deserve credit for the presence of mind and courage you showed in extricating your companions and yourself from what might very easily have been a fatal accident. Still, you were right to tell me all about it, and I think that to-day’s experiences may have the effect of making you more careful in the future.”

“You may be sure, sir, that I will never be so careless again,” promised Bert, and by the tone of his voice, Mr. Hollis knew that he meant it.

It was a hungry lot that sat down to supper that evening, and little was spoken of except their thrilling experiences of the day. Aftersupper, however, they began to feel the effects of the exciting day, and all expressed themselves “tuckered out.” As Frank said, “He felt too tired to take the trouble of going to sleep.”

They all managed to overcome this very important objection, however, and soon there was no sound to be heard in the camp except the rustling of the embers in the camp fire as they slowly burnt themselves out and settled into ashes.

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